


Unwritten

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Librarian Sam, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8003149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate!AU where the first words your soulmate says to you are imprinted on your skin. </p><p>And Dean doesn't have any words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwritten

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth place winner for [destieldrabblesdaily/](http://destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com)'s 30k fanfic contest :)
> 
> Find it [HERE](http://destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com/post/150182577029/fourth-place-goes-to-the-story-unwritten-by-the)

Dean had heard this story a thousand times already.

“- and as soon as I saw her I said,” Sam continued with a breathless laugh, “Ma’am, I’m sorry but you can’t leave the library through the fire escape.” He looked over at Jess who smiled coyly and lifted up her pant leg to show those exact words imprinted across her calf like a tattoo.

“So then what did _she_ say?” Anna asked, obviously enraptured by the story of how the two soulmates had met just a few days before.

Sam grinned slyly and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt to pull it aside, revealing the words “Watch Me” marked on his skin.

“Then we kind of just stopped and stared at each other for a while once we realized what had happened.”

“You don’t know how many library fire escapes I’ve used over the years trying to find him.” Jess said with a playful slap against Sam’s shoulder.

Dean watched as Sam gazed into Jess’s eyes with more adoration than he’d ever seen his brother give to anyone.

They were obviously perfect for each other.

“Excuse me,” Dean mumbled, and pushed his chair out from the bar counter. Faintly, he could hear Jess asking Sam if they’d said anything wrong as he swung the bar door open to leave.

He could almost imagine Sam’s practiced speech.

 _“No,”_ he’d say. _“Soulmates are just a touchy subject for Dean. He - he doesn’t have one.”_

*****

Dean was happy for them. He honestly was.

Sam deserved someone as spunky and refreshing as Jess in his life and he knew that Jess was probably going to experience something similar as well.

Dean angrily slammed his apartment door behind him and gritted his teeth together. He’d had twenty-eight years to get used to the fact that no soul-words existed anywhere on his body and he’d _promised_ himself that he wasn’t going to act this way once Sam had found “Watch Me”.

He’d sure fucked that one up.

The thing was… he was _fine_. He didn’t need a soulmate to find happiness and he sure as hell didn’t need some words on his body to tell him that he only had the one shot at a perfect someone. Dean had a job he enjoyed, good friends, a great brother and plenty of ways to make himself happy. Would a soulmate have been nice? Maybe. It would have at least been an interesting experience but it was something he’d never have the luxury of knowing.

It may have taken him a while, but he was okay with it - despite how the trials of today had made him act.

There was a soft buzzing coming from his phone that was, predictably, a text from Sam.

_Are you okay?_

Guilt wormed its way up Dean’s chest and settled around his heart. Sam had just found his soulmate and here he was worrying about Dean because he couldn’t stand to listen to their story again.

_I’m fine. Sorry for leaving like that._

Dean tossed his phone on the couch next to him and turned on _Dr. Sexy MD,_ determined to get his head back in the game, and fell asleep to the urgent sounds of over-dramatized medical care.

*****

“You know, my cousin didn’t get her soul-words until she was eighteen.” Jo said, handing him the wrench. “Eighteen, Dean. Sometimes they just come a little later in life, you know?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he got the nut free and oil poured into the bowl. Sure, eighteen was definitely considered rare when two to three years old was the average age for soul-words appearing, but twenty-eight was more or less unheard of and as much as Jo was trying to help, her words were doing nothing to console someone who’d long since accepted his fate.

‘Who knows? Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and -”

Dean rolled himself out from underneath the car he was working on and glared. “Who put you up to this? Was it Sam?”

Jo’s eyes grew wide with false innocence. “What? No!”

“Listen. I’m fine. Okay?” Dean rolled himself back under and grabbed the bowl once the oil had finished draining. “I don’t want to be coddled or consoled. I’m happy for Sam and Jess.”

Dean shoved the bowl in Jo’s direction.

“Besides,” he said with a smile that he hoped reached his eyes. “Who needs a soulmate when Dr. Sexy exists?

Jo clutched the bowl and looked at him pityingly. “Are you sure you just haven’t found -”

“I’m sure.” Dean said, remembering his dad dragging him to a doctor when he was in high school to get him checked over just in case that exact scenario was true.

“Okay, but what if-”

“Drop it, Jo.” Dean stood up and wiped his hands on one grimy towel, all patience on the subject gone. “I’m serious.”

Jo dropped her head head down and nodded a little. “Sorry.”

He sighed and tossed the rag in a bucket, already feeling bad that he’d snapped at someone who was just trying to help.

They were _always_ just trying to help.

“Me too,” he said.

*****

Dean peered at his brother over the huge pile of books and snorted as a few toppled over onto Sam’s head when he accidentally nudged it.  

Sam rubbed at his head and rolled his eyes as he handed Dean a worn copy of Slaughterhouse Five.

“What about this one?”

Dean took a moment to study the cover before shaking his head and tossing it on the pile. “Already read it.”

“How about this one?”

“Yep. Weird ending.”

“This one?”

“Sam, I’m telling you. I’ve read all of Vonnegut.”

Sam huffed and picked up the stack of Vonnegut books and dropped them in Dean’s arms.

“Then do you want to do me a favor and put these away for me? I know you know where they go and I’m drowning in book returns.”

Dean snorted but heaved the books under one arm. “See if I ever visit you at work again, bitch.”

“Thanks, jerk.”

“Oh hey,” Sam said, causing Dean to turn around. “Jess wants to know if you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

Dean plastered on a smile. “Sure thing. See you then.”

He let his smile slowly fade as he walked out into the library, weaving in between shelves and dodging past people, until he found the shelf he’d visited many times before.

Carefully, so as not to hurt any of the books, he slid them into their respective places and folded his arms in satisfaction.

There was a tap on his shoulder.

Dean turned to see a dark-haired man with vividly blue eyes smiling at him politely and holding up a notebook with a message scrawled in fluid cursive.

_Excuse me, but can I bother you to help me find a book?_

Dean squinted a little at it, then sheepishly shrugged, ignoring the oddity of the notebook for the time being.

“Sorry, buddy, I don’t actually work here,” he admitted.

Instead of acting embarrassed or bashful by the exchange, a look of shock crossed the man’s face.  

“No, it’s fine,” Dean said quickly. “My brother works here and just wanted me to put away away few books for him.”

The man seemed to ignore his explanation in favor of carefully stowing the notebook under his left arm and pulled up the right sleeve of the large trench coat he was wearing.

“What are you -”

Dean cut himself off when he saw dark coloration forming words - his own words - on the man’s forearm.

_Sorry, buddy, I don’t actually work here._

Dean held up a finger as the man looked at him expectantly, and it was already killing him that he’d have to crush the glimmer of hope he saw in those eyes.

“No. No no no no. Nope.” He took a step backwards and pressed himself against the bookshelf. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t - I don’t have a soulmate. I can’t be yours.”

The man just gestured emphatically at the words on his forearm as if that was the only evidence Dean needed.

“I don’t have any soul-words!” Dean lifted his own sleeves up dramatically; even though it was entirely possible that they could be elsewhere on his body, he hoped it would get the point across. “I never have! I’m sorry, but this is a mistake. Someone else must be going to say the exact same - no, don’t- stop _gesturing_. Why aren’t you _saying_ something?”

All the guy had to do was talk to him and Dean could unfortunately prove that they weren’t soulmates.

It would be as simple as one word.

The man grabbed at his notepad and used a pen from the pocket of his trench coat to write something down in bold strokes before turning it to face Dean.

_I’m mute._

Oh.

_Oh._

A small ember of hope that Dean thought he’d quashed years ago was slowly being fanned into a small flame.

The man in front of him was mute and Dean had no soul-words.

Dozens of questions ran through Dean’s mind all at the same time.

_What if you’re wrong?_

_Are you sure no one’s said that to you before?_

_What if I’m not ready for this?_

_When did you get your words?_

_When did you lose your words?_

_What if I’m not what you’re expecting?_

_What if you hate me?_

But what came out was:

“So, what’s your name?”

The man smiled and flipped the page of the notebook, wrote something down again, and handed it to Dean.

_Castiel Novak._

Dean ran his finger across the letters as he tested the name out on his tongue before looking up and holding out a hand towards Castiel. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”

Castiel grasped the hand firmly and looked at him like he was studying something that was a lot more interesting than Dean felt he was.

It wasn’t anything miraculous. It was nothing like he’d seen in the movies. There wasn’t any sort of lightning strike from above or a bright neon sign that flashed ‘THIS IS YOUR SOULMATE’.

But there was some part of him that he could feel reaching out towards Castiel and the more he studied it, the more right it felt.

Was this possible?

After twenty-eight years of disappointment did he actually have anything soulmate?

“So uh,” Dean extracted his hand and rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m probably not gonna be very good at this whole ‘soulmate’ thing.”

Castiel let out out a huff of amusement and pointed at himself and held up two fingers.

_Me too._

_“_ Oh shit, right,” Dean quickly handed the notebook back and cleared his throat. “And um, this is the first time in a long time I’ve even considered I might have one?”

He watched as Castiel nodded in understanding and even seemed a little apologetic.

_I’m sorry. I wish I could have helped._

“Not your fault,” Dean brushed the written apology aside instantly. “You don’t have to apologize.”

They smiled at each other for a few more moments before Dean realized that they were still crowded near a bookshelf in a library.

“So uh, what now?”

From what they’d told him, Sam and Jess had almost immediately gravitated towards each other as soon as they’d met, becoming inseparable within just just a few hours.

But that wasn’t Dean, and he was starting to get the feeling that it wasn’t Castiel either.  Castiel shrugged and jotted something else down.

_I’d like to get to know you. Dinner?_

Dean nodded with a small smile. “I’ll have to cancel something, but I think they’ll understand. Weren’t you uh,” he glanced at the notebook again. “Weren’t you looking for something?”

Castiel cleared his throat and Dean saw a small flush appear on his cheeks as he wrote and turned it towards him.

_I think I found it._


End file.
